There was a lull in the snow flurry, and the white curtain seemed to lift for a moment. The gold-seekers had a glimpse of the natives in full retreat, with the Fogers—father and son—racing panic-stricken after them. Tom could also see a big cave, just beyond the gold hole, collapse and crumble to pieces like a house of cards.
"We have no time to lose!" Mr. Parker warned them. "The roof of this cave is slowly coming down. The sides are collapsing! We must get out!"
"Then wheel out the airship!" cried Tom. "We must save that! We needn't fear the natives, now!"
The young inventor hurried to the RED CLOUD calling to Ned and the others. They hastened to his side. It was an easy matter to move the airship along on the wheels. It neared the opening of the cave. The rumbling, roaring, grinding sound of the ice increased.
"Why—why!" cried Tom in surprise and alarm, as the craft neared the mouth of the ice cavern, "we can't get it out—the opening is too small! Yet it came in easily enough!"
"The cave is collapsing—growing smaller every moment!" cried Mr. Parker. "We have only time to save our lives! Run out!"
"And leave the airship? Never!" yelled Tom.
"You must! You can't save that and your life!"
"Get axes and make the opening bigger!" suggested Ned, who, like his chum, could not bear to think of the destruction of the beautiful craft.
"No time! No time!" shouted Mr. Parker, frantically, "We must get out! Save what you can from the ship—the gold—some supplies—the guns—some food—save what you can!"